


Prestidigitation

by sumhowe_sailing



Series: Snapshots of Domesticity [5]
Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 13:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12582580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumhowe_sailing/pseuds/sumhowe_sailing
Summary: In which Raffles learns something new and Bunny tries very hard not to be impressed.





	Prestidigitation

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to rififis for chatting with me about this idea a while back. Sorry it took so long.

He knew that Raffles wanted him to look up; he could tell from the weight of the footsteps as Raffles walked about the room, the louder than average _thunk_ as he set down whatever it was he had picked up just moments before. He could practically feel the intense desire to be noticed radiating off of him as Raffles perched on the edge of a settee just at the edge of Bunny’s view. But he was writing and stubbornly refused to be distracted.

“I’m bored,” Raffles groaned at last, abandoning every attempt at subtlety.

“And I am working.”

“Oh Bunny, don’t be so beastly.”

“Be nice, or I’ll kill you in this one too.”

A mock gasp followed this proclamation. It was so theatrically overwrought that it was all Bunny could do to keep a straight face.

“Don’t, Bunny, don’t. How can your readers bear it?”

“They’ll bear it well enough.”

“You heartless thing!”

“Oh dear, Mr. Maturin is suddenly looking awfully ill.”

Raffles threw up his hands. Bunny laughed and relented a little.

“Well, perhaps not as ill as all that. But A.J. you must let me work. If you’re so terribly bored go find a book or go for a walk or something. I’ll be done in an hour or so—I’ll entertain you then.”

“I must say,” Raffles pouted, “when I encouraged you to write these things, I had no notion you would spend so much time with them. It’s horridly unfair.”

“My dear, please go; I suddenly find I have a funeral to write.”

 

The hour Bunny had promised turned into two without him noticing, but he didn’t hear another sound from Raffles. When he finally rose from his desk, stretching and yawning, he began at once to wonder where he had gone to. The house had been so quiet for so long he thought Raffles must have gone out—but then, Raffles could be silent for hours at a stretch if it suited him. And after Bunny had neglected him so long, he felt Raffles might find it suited him very well just now.

All the same, Bunny could not find him anywhere in the house. He looked in every room, except A.J.’s. There, he only knocked and waited in vain for an answer. So then. Either he was pointedly ignoring Bunny in retaliation, or he had indeed gone out. Now that he thought about it, a walk seemed highly appealing. The weather was just this side of “too hot”, and the trees were dancing in an encouraging breeze.

 

He returned to the cottage just as the rosy evening light was beginning to retreat over the distant horizon. He hadn’t realized he’d been gone so long; his mind had gone wandering much faster than his feet and had been so far away he hardly noticed his surroundings. As he approached the gate, they imposed themselves on him once more. He didn’t mind. He stood for a time, gazing up at the dim outline of this cozy little home against the trees and the setting sun. Shadows hung snugly about the place, settling into every crevice. Then, abruptly, one of the shadows detached itself from the base of an old oak, round which a latticed bench curved, and came striding up the path to meet him.

“There you are, you truant! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I’m sorry, A.J. – I lost track of time, I suppose.”

“First you kill me, then you abandon my withered shade—where will it end, Bunny? What desperate revenge will you wreak on me next?”

“Something wonderfully creative, I’m sure.”

“Well, before you retire to plot, will you come and do me a small favor?”

“Anything you like,” Bunny replied, immediately wishing he’d added a few caveats.

“Wonderful! Come on!” And with that, Raffles seized his hand and pulled him along behind him.

The next thing Bunny knew, he was perched on the edge of A.J.’s bed, and A.J. was fanning out a deck of old playing cards.

“Pick one.”

“What?”

“Pick a card,” he repeated slowly.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Didn’t you say you’d do anything for me?” Raffles asked, raising an eyebrow. Before Bunny could answer, he pressed on. “Didn’t you say you were my man? After all we’ve been through together, after everything, is _this_ really so much to ask?”

“You don’t need to be so dramatic about it,” Bunny grumbled as he drew a card from the center.

“Ah, but that’s half the fun. Now, cut the deck—good, good, now place your card there—yes, and finish the cut. Now,” Raffles drawled as he quickly shuffled the deck, “let us see.”

He began to flip the cards, one by one, from the top of the deck, watching Bunny’s expression almost as closely as he watched the numbers and suits he tossed aside. Suddenly, with a flourish, he held up the next card, not allowing Bunny to see what it was.

“This, I believe, is yours,” he concluded, flipping the card gracefully as he extended it to Bunny. It was all Bunny could do not to stare in open astonishment.

“Well, alright yes. Yes, that’s my card. But how on earth did you know?”

“Ah, my dear Bunny, a magician, as you must surely know, never reveals a secret.”

“But you’re not a magician. You’re a cracksmen and a cricketer and a rogue and a great many other things besides, but I’ve never known you to call yourself a magician. So tell me.”

“Never _before_ , Bunny, never _before_. But before I had not taken your excellent advice and spent an afternoon profiting from the store of knowledge in our library.”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me to find a book, and so I did. I found this book— _Mastering Magic for the Modern Man_. The title is a bit absurd, I grant you, but the contents are as good as anything you’ll find.”

“Is this really what you’ve been doing all afternoon?”

“It’s not quite enough time to make me a master, but I think I’ve got the hang of it.”

“I can’t believe—”

“Bunny, I wonder, can I prevail upon you to oblige me in another trifling matter?”

In spite of an attempt at feigning indifference, Raffles did not have to persuade him to participate this time. He was curious to see how far this new little experiment would go.

“This one’s a bit different. It’s a story, you see, very little audience involvement.” He watched as Raffles pulled a few cards from the deck. He tossed a king on the bedside table, set the deck down, and held up all four jacks. “These fellows, these jacks-of-all-trades—no, no forgive me. These fellows are our professional colleagues. They have a little job on and choose not to be seen,” he set them down atop the deck again. “The deck will represent the crib these cracksmen are after.” He chuckled softly after he said this, as if almost embarrassed, then picked up the jacks he had set down, explaining it was perhaps a bit soon for them to have cracked it. He set them on the table a small distance from the king. “This bold man will be the good Inspector Mackenzie of our scenario.”

Bunny wanted to laugh at the absurd microcosm, but he was far too interested in where this was going to interrupt the narrative. Raffles plucked up one of the jacks.

“Jack the first is an old hand at the game—too old to do any of the hard labor. He’s earned the comfortable job of lookout. We’ll leave him in the parlor—” slipping him in at the bottom of the deck, “—and wait for Jack the second. _He_ is young and limber and perfectly capable of scaling the wall to the Lady’s bedroom—” sliding the card in a quarter of the way up from the bottom. “Now, Jack the third is a clever hand with a pick, and he’ll make his way up to the library on the third floor where the old man’s safe is nestled in among the books.” The card entered the deck about halfway up. “And last, though certainly not least, Jack the fourth. His station is rather an unusual one. There’s a lovely little window in the attic—” sliding the card in just a short way from the top of the deck, “—that provides a perfect view of the route between this beautiful crib and the nearest jail. Of course, Jack the first has a prime seat to observe everything _in_ the house, but Jack the fourth can alert his confederates the moment he sees trouble stirring _outside_ the house. Do you follow me?”

“Perfectly.”

“Wonderful. Now, unhappy Fate has cast a disproving eye over the proceedings of our colleagues, and somehow word gets round to our old friend that something is amiss.” Raffles placed one finger on the king and began slowly dragging it toward the deck of cards. Much to his embarrassment, Bunny caught himself feeling a sort of nervous empathy for the four Jacks.

“Luckily, Jack the fourth is aware of the danger in a moment. He rushes down to alert his dear friends, and before anyone is the wiser, they’ve all made their way to the roof, and—” he waved his hand dramatically over the deck, tapped it three times, and, to Bunny’s utter amazement, flipped over the four Jacks—the very jacks he had watched Raffles distribute throughout the deck, “—and all our good cracksmen get away, though sadly not a pound richer for the adventure.”


End file.
